This Will Be Our Undoing
by Suga Bee
Summary: "This will ruin us. You will be the end of me. It will destroy you." Different rumors whipsered through the court, but no one cared as lived & died in this beautiful, twisted, lovely vicious circle that none of them were strong enough to get out of.
1. This is About the Players

**I hate continuing stories...I see that now, as I start _YET ANOTHER_ story without finishing or even remotly working on the others. **

**So um...Here's the beginning of my new project, which I will work diligently on, and add many many couples. If you confess to like a couple, they will show up in some way. 3**

**I'm looking to make this loooong and emotional, both happy and sad and every complicated everything in between. Lots of love, sex, hate, rape, marriage, EVERYTHING, so be forewarned. **

**So here is the short basis. Tell me what you think. Its set to an Elizibethian time period, King Henry the 8th, pictueresque, courtiers, knights, fair maidens, jousting, princes, kings,queens, Kind of thing. **

**So without further to due...**

**Enjoy. :) **

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><p>This is a story about love<p>

And loss.

This is about a choir boy, and his first taste of sin,

And a Prince who turned his back as his country burned,

And a girl who broke the ranks and was murdered for her mistake.

This is about brothers who took the chance of a life time,

And the king who lead his country into a bloody war,

And the comrades who were turned against each other by one Queen.

This is about lovers who stole away in the night,

About those who met in darkened hallways,

About others who had to wake before the cock crew morning,

And the few who were able to kiss and tell.

This is mostly about a choice, and an answer, and men who don't know any boundaries and women who don't know any better.

About parents and bad decisions, children thrust too quickly into the world, and the fall of great bloodlines, the crumbling of kingdoms, the shattering of nations.

This is a story about heart break

And remembrance.

This is about the ones before us who carved our path,

And the ones who guide us to our demise.

This about voices crying,

And singing,

And screaming,

And shouting for war.

This is about lovers fighting,

And adoring,

And confessing,

And denouncing.

This is about everything

And nothing.

About the beginning

And the end.

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><p><strong>Are any of ya'll even remotly intrested? :)<strong>

**Yes ?**

**No ?**

**Tell me what ya want, and lets get this thing started! ;) **


	2. This is About a Chase

**Hmmm, I know I shouldn't be writing more for this story when I have a huge following for "We Were There Once" and have yet to even write a rough copy of the next chapter. But this idea has been in my mind for AGES andI couldn't stop until I had some characters fleshed out. :) **

**Hope ya'll like RusAme, and a hell of a lot of other characters. :) **

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><p>Alfred enjoyed nights like this, where the wind was a constant thief that tugged and licked at the hem of your clothes, and the moon was full with milky white harvest cider and the soft cries and moans of love could be heard from within the privy chambers as he passed.<p>

He languidly meandered through the halls and contemplated how difficult the year would be as court started up again with their dances and masques, and gambling and loving through the nights and days.

Church would be interesting with Father Antonio preaching about adultery and damnation as he secretly thinks of tipping that Italian gypsy boy's body over that very alter, and the poor choir boy Feliciano staring wide eyed and lovingly at the king's best German officer who always sat in the first row, either to appear interested in the security of his afterlife or to get a closer look at the child who sang hymns in both Latin and Italian with a voice like an angel.

Gilbert sometimes would come stumbling into the pews in the same clothes as the night before, or more likely, nursing a hangover that would cripple an army by staying in bed with a few others till noon.

Because French court was different but Francis refused to adapt, he always followed Arthur round the castle like a young squire to master, smiling and singing softly, jokingly courting him with fresh bouquets or small silver bracelets or even broaches from Paris and poems in French. Arthur, like a well raised baron declined them all, as was the fashion, no matter how beautiful or extravagant or breath taking they were, sending the page boy who had brought them back to the Frenchman with a note and attitude.  
>Alfred thought maybe Arthur had kept a few trinkets, but never anything big enough for a chamber lad to find important enough to gossip about to the ladies in other rooms.<p>

Since Francis was too busy flirting with the bitter ex pirate, he never noticed his bedfellows odd behavior around the new Prussian noble, whose blood was so thick with arrogance and mirth it just dripped off of him in waves of wanton pleasure, but Alfred caught the way Matthew feigned around him and would lose to him in tennis or cards almost on purpose, but Gilbert, even though he would rob the king himself if it were not a fixed game, never gambled Matthew for anything but candies and flowers, almost a ridicule for any man, but the two laughed and raced and bet with their lives like the two never had any future.

Alfred caught the sound of a raven crowing in the distance, a foul omen on a night so pretty and fine as this, and turned to take a walk by the Queen's rose maze and the fresh Chinese plum trees.

As he made his way through the courtyard, his ear caught the twinkling of a piano being tuned, and a violin's bow across taunt strings, and he found a candle lit in the room above him.

It was Roderick no doubt, in his light cotton undershirt as he played snatches of music. Alfred knew he was entertaining Elizeveta, who had snuck out of her room to see her fiancé before they were wed. He took a peek and sure enough, there she was, laid out on the sheets with her hair in honey comb waves about her bare shoulders from which her night slip had fallen. Her legs were beautifully bare as she twisted onto her back and looked at her husband to be as he drew the bow to and fro against the strings and another moan of a tune came to life from the instrument. She curled her fingers and toes at the sound, bit her rose bud lips to stop from crying out and always praised his music once he paused or stopped to prepare for another piece.

But Alfred knew that her chest was sore from lacing her breasts against her with thick wool in order to conceal them underneight a knight's tunic, and her hair would need more trimming before she braved the armor and she probably lied about the sword calluses on her hands or the bruises on her legs, because if anyone found out about her secret double living, she'd surly be put to death.

But more importantly Roderick couldn't know because it'd ruin their marriage (for who would marry a woman who dressed and fought and cussed like a man,) and Gilbert couldn't know because they'd been friends and knights in waiting together since forever, (and who would want to play around with a woman on the battle field,) so Liza was always lying lying lying, and both men were drinking it up like wine.

Roderick had secrets too,like how sometimes Gilbert would catch him in the piano room, quick and kind as he was laid against the piano, and the poor instrument would make such harsh, loud dischored noises that covered up their romp, and like the man that rode his horse close to Roderick's open window and would bring him little treats from the kitchens and whose little sister would twist flowers into a crown and place it on his brow. Vash knew that his friend was married off, but he kept coming coming coming to his window and shooting arrows onto his chamber door with secret letters, and every now and then Alfred could swear he saw blush on his cheeks when the violinist would play for the king.

The king, ha! Alfred hated to think on the fickle king who swore to the bible but kept racking up the sins one by one, sometimes two by two. There was talk from the cleaning maids that with each morning, a new defaced maid came tumbling from his bed sheets to dash back to her rooms before the court was roused, and that the Queen knew but said nothing about it, and he had a mistress brought from Greece, whose son was supposedly a bastard but was claimed by his father, a country man who's leg was lame and couldn't do much at court anyway with his pauper nobility.

The Roman king liked all of the courtiers when it suited him and hated them when it suited him, and his moods were as changeable as the weather but as easy to deflect if one knew just the right flattery to bring him from a sadness or just enough good news to bring him out of anger.

The Greek mistress's son was a quite boy who never spoke much and seemed more interested in sleeping than trying to win his right to the thrown, something that got him scolded by his mother often. He hung around with a Turkish noble who was older than this generation, and a young Japanese geisha that was brought from some island to dance for the king. Kiku had almond shaped eyes like black marbles against his deep olive skin, hair black like night on his shoulders or pinned from his face with golden clips or ropes of pearls.

Alfred was Kiku's bed fellow when he first moved here, but he was later moved to the kings rooms and then over with the Grecian prince and never again did Alfred get to smell the sweet scent of cherry blossoms or the perfume of Asian scents. He missed them, and Kiku's soft form by his as they slept.

Alfred grew weary of listening to the music and quit his place below the balcony, and moved again toward the marble benches and the open, moon ray spilled courtyard.

He thought of the dances that were danced by the courtiers, with the women all on show and the men licking their chops like ravenous wolves as they watched.

The women all flocked to pretty little Tino who was built like they were and was pampered like they were as they all kissed his cheeks and threaded their ringed fingers through his soft locks.

He was constantly watched by Berwald, who never seems to smile unless he was drinking and had Tino in his lap, and sometimes amongst real close friends he slipped and called him "My wife" and the boys would whoop with laughter and poor Tino would blush like a virgin, but only Alfred saw how the two mingled in the dark hallways and the way Berwald watched him as he caught the attention of male and females alike.

Not that Alfred cared. To him, court was nothing but it's own play of faux emotions and doting, loving liars. The women all passed secrets round the chambers at night and the men always lied about the numbers of women they bedded, and everyone cheated at cards but whatever seemed the point?

To Alfred, this place was losing its luster and constantly between dances, or dining, or practicing his fencing he wondered when his life would actually begin and the wool would be lifted from his eyes like some misty veil, and finally, yes, finally he would have fun again and quit this entire little scheme.

He hated the rumors and hated the bluffing, and he hated listening to conversations because it was all lies. Always lies!

A sudden wind whipped against his face, bringing scents so familiar to him that he slid his eyes closed and lifted his hands out as if to embrace the gust. The stars looked like smiles and the slivers of moon light sparkled on the marble floors and he had music in his head as he took a step and felt like dancing suddenly.

Until the sound of a single pair of hands clapping, slow and monotonous.

"Ivan!" He stopped his movements and looked the Russian prince up and down, measuring him cautiously. "What are you doing out so late? It's nearly daybreak." Alfred's chest was tight with fright, scared witless as he wondered how long Ivan had been watching him.

"Just needed a stroll, though I could ask you the same question." His voice was deep and low with secrets, sounding mirthful and knowing as he neared the blonde.

"I was bored, couldn't sleep." Alfred semi-lied, turning from the advancing noble with little interest in his eyes.

"What? Couldn't listen to your twin be thrown into Gilbert's bed with cries of passion and whines of God?"

Alfred's face blushed wildly as he whirled around and faced Ivan angrily with remembrance. "No! Stop, my brother is pure and loyal to live a sanctioned life until he is married. Lies of yours won't mar my brother from a good marriage later on."

"You don't understand," Ivan held his hands up to show he wasn't on the offense, "I wouldn't ruin your brother in any way. Besides, I would hate to see all that beautiful manhood be wasted on someone like Gilbert, who I can tell you right now would rather be with a certain musician, sprawled cross eyed and remembering of music as he kisses his-"

"Ivan please!" Alfred covered his ears animatedly as Ivan chuckled, moving his arm to encircle Alfred.

"I'm just telling the truth."

"I'm trying to run away from it."

The two stood silence as a lone wolf howled long and lonely in the distance, and the wind picked up in the rustling trees. The music in Roderick's room had quieted, and no doubt, Liz was giving her fiancé a run for his money as they loved.

"What do you have to run away from, Fredka? Surly there's no scandal biting at your heels." The Russian man laughed again, so towering and stable against Alfred as he pressed his palms against the Russian's chest in futile escape.

"I'm fine. Just sick and tired of looking but not seeing, and everyone pretending and lying through their pretty little lips. Don't you ever grow bored of court life?" His cerulean eyes peeked from behind a boyish fringe of honeyed bangs, searching Ivan for something, anything.

But the Prince just rolled his shoulders in a tired. gallant shrug. "I like court. There's a lot to keep up with, and it's fun to kiss and bite at all the players." He playfully bent down and nipped his teeth across Alfred's lips, who drew away surprised.

"You're to be married in two months. I'd hate to think your wife is jealous of the time you spend with me." Oh, such a cold remark with such bright, loving eyes as Ivan drew down, and took another kiss.

"All the more reason for you to come to my chambers when I summon you. I like her ranting and raving, it spices up my cold, boring life."

Alfred slid his hands expertly down his curves and caught the Russian's fingers, pulling them slowly up to his lips and kissing the rings daintily. "And all the more reason for me to keep escaping you." His laugh lit the night as Alfred turned and ran back toward the darkened castle corridors, his boots clicking on marble as he disappeared like a whisk of light.

Ivan was left by the maze in a glorious surreal after thought, gathering his wits about him as he woke from the amorous kiss Alfred had slyly broke free with. "Touché Alfred," he whispered toward the tower, licking his wolfish chops with a keen, slow interest. "Because what fun is there in a hunt where the prey is too easily caught?"

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><p><strong>Yep, it's only going to get better and get more complicated with love from here on in. :) Anyone seeing a pattern here? Maybe ideas on how this is all about to go down? haha, See ya'll later, oh and please review, so I know you guys like it or hate it. :) <strong>

**Loves and kisses, cookies and milk, **

**Suga Bee. **


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